Some coffee with no sugar

Trees laden with languid air

City lost

No more smoke from chimneys

No more, no more

People are 

rocks of all sizes

The wind takes their stench

To kill roses 

Hidden in mountains

Cats sit at the door

Trying to eat shadows

Left behind by travellers

Who walked into the sun

And fell into the oceans

Knives have gone blunt

By slitting wrists 

Of little children

Who refuse to die

They grab the tails of snakes

Sleeping in their beds

(What are snakes?)

All books are burnt

No answer

The ash is mixed

With crushed jasmine 

To paint on grey walls

From now, remember this

No more poems for lovers

No more lovers for poems

But the city is still familiar

Like a life lived

In a street of nameless rocks

Laid against closed windows

With unhappy cats 

And dead snakes

Trying to come back to life

While the burnt ash of forgotten books

 Turn into jasmines

Making the whole city

A garden 

Ready for another spring. 

Picture: Arghavan khosarvi painting. Google

Poem: Dabbler scribbles. Abhishek kumar